That is where I left it all of those years ago, taking with me a head full of questions, a real feeling of having left things unresolved and that little toy car as a memento of my adventure. I had left reluctantly but also had sensed the danger I was in, a strange feeling that I would have thought impossible to experience in the civilized world. On my long drive back to my regular life I had vowed to go back at some point and keep seeking answers, much more brave as the distance between myself and Clyde Forks increased. I never did of course, life taking over and the pressing need to solve the mystery fading softly away. I would go back to it occasionally, usually triggered by some other event in my life, but it always seemed very distant and remote, all the burning questions consumed by time. I would dream about Clyde Forks sometimes, or some member of the cast of characters I had met, or stay up an extra few minutes wondering about my experience up there. Most of the time I found it hard to believe I had been so wrapped up in it, or so convinced of a great conspiracy. It was a just an innocent small town, weird for sure, but innocent.
That was right where I was with it when I happened upon that podcast. That program detailed the disappearance of a young boy from an area near Calabogie.
A good, quick summary is also available here:
Listening to that podcast brought everything back in a wave of memory and those old events suddenly seemed much clearer than before. That led me to digging through a pile of old boxes until I found the journal I had kept on that trip. Sitting down and reading it left me with those questions I posed at the beginning of this story. How could I have just left and stopped looking into what happened up there? And, what did it all have to do with this missing boy?
The End…for now